


tell the stars hello from me

by littleheavens



Category: Wanna One (Band)
Genre: A little bit of angst, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Broken Winkhan/Hodumaroo whatever u call it, Fate & Destiny, I think?, Love at First Sight, M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-21
Updated: 2018-10-21
Packaged: 2019-08-05 08:28:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16364390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littleheavens/pseuds/littleheavens
Summary: About fate, miracles, and how Park Woojin's final day is also the beginning of the rest of his life.





	tell the stars hello from me

**Author's Note:**

> 2parkweek here we go! i initially wasn't going to be able to participate (damn you, college), but a random burst of inspiration happened and 5.5k words later here we are. i might come back to re-write some parts / re-beta(?) it and re-format it later OOPS sorry....
> 
>  **warnings** : for mentions of a vehicle accident and hospitals.

 

Fate is a strange thing. Fate is vile. Fate is unfair. Fate is, well, _fate_.

 

And fate has fucked him over.

 

He’s not sure why fate has decided to curse him like this. He’s not sure why it started or how to stop it. He can’t even remember the last time it was different. For all he knows, this has always been his purpose.

 

But never knowing anything else doesn’t make it _okay_ , though.

 

It’s another boy this time. He looks into the mirror and takes a moment to take in what he sees.

 

Tall-ish. Broad, _really_ broad. Hair dyed into a messy blonde.

 

It’s not a bad look. He’s had worse. No, this is more than good enough.

 

“ _Kim Donghan_ ”, the voice in his head supplies him. Alright. Great, good. Kim Donghan it is, then. For 24 hours, Kim Donghan is who he’ll be.

 

When he checks the calendar, it’s a Friday. _A school day._ He slowly gets ready, maneuvers around Kim Donghan’s room, tries to see if he can find a uniform or some books, indicating where he needs to be as memories slowly start to flood in.

 

Mornings are always a little hazy, you see.

 

He’s ready a little early, today. He can tell, he can _feel it_ , so he waits on the living room couch. His mother shoots him a curious look when she sees her son sitting there, already up and dressed. She doesn’t say anything about it, though, she just smiles and presses a kiss to his forehead, before wishing him a nice day.

 

It sends shivers down his spine, like a trace of a memory that is inherently _his_ — not Kim Donghan’s.

 

Because that’s the thing, isn’t it? If those memories aren’t Donghan’s, or whoever else’s body he has that day, then they must be _his_.

 

He wouldn’t know for sure, though.

 

All he has is a name. _Park Woojin_. That’s all he knows. That’s the only thing he’s sure of, the only thing that has remained throughout the time he’s spent like this.

 

It’s what he hears in his nightmares. Every time. The same pattern.

 

_Park Woojin._

 

_Woojin._

 

_Woojin-ah._

 

_Woojin, please._

 

_Come home._

 

He wants to. He wants to but he _can’t_ . Doesn’t know anything — doesn’t even know where _home_ is. Doesn’t know where he came from, who he was before he was given a new identity every day. Just the name.

 

He’s just Woojin, a lost soul who ended up wandering and getting lost, presumably. But today, he is Kim Donghan. And tomorrow, he might be called Hyungseob, or Dayoung, or Jiwoo, or Mark, or Daniel.

 

Despite the ever changing names and identities, there is one thing besides his own vague memories that remains permanent: the _loneliness_. Because he doesn’t know if he’s alone. Doesn’t know if he’s the only one experiencing this or if there’s a world of others out there. No one to talk to, no permanence, nothing vast or steady.

 

You deal with it or you don’t. It doesn’t change anything, truly. You’re stuck and that’s that.

 

It doesn’t stop him from wishing he could just _stay_ sometimes, though.

 

Kim Donghan’s mother passes through the living room again, bag in hand this time. Her hair is tied into a neat ponytail. She opens the front door, ready to leave, and yells a _“Oh! Jihoonie is here! See you later honey!_ ” before she steps out closes the door behind her.

 

Something in the back of his mind tells him this _Jihoonie_ must be Donghan’s boyfriend. He digs deeper into the memories, tries to discover what he needs to know to survive today.

 

Park Jihoon. One year younger than his current occupant. They’d been dating for over a year, childhood friends having become some sort of lovers, but they had started to drift away because Donghan got into college and, despite Jihoon’s genuine support, it had put a strain on their relationship.

 

It’s tense, now more than ever.

 

He wasn’t supposed to see Jihoon today, his mind supplies him. It’s Friday. Jihoon only ever comes by on weekends anymore, or Wednesdays if time permits.

 

Donghan’s heart does not skip a beat, not like it used to. Instead, a form of anxiety settles deep into his bones, in the pit of his stomach, where it stays. Woojin swallows and steps into the hallway, where the other boy is.

 

And what he sees, what he sees makes his world crumble.

 

So, this is Park Jihoon. And nothing he could have found in Donghan’s memories could have prepared him for _this_.

 

They couldn’t have prepared him for Jihoon sparkling eyes, who begin to fill themselves with tears. For the pair of lips bitten and chewed on and chapped. Nothing could have prepared Woojin for the boy stepping forward, punching him straight into his chest.

 

“I hate you! I fucking hate you, I hate _this_ , Donghan. I hate _us_.”

 

 _No, this can’t be_ , Woojin thinks, and he’s pulling Jihoon into his embrace. He doesn’t know what Donghan exactly did, or what happened, but he knows Jihoon shouldn’t be crying because of him.

 

The younger boy struggles, trying to push him away. But Kim Donghan is strong — he’s not this broad and muscular for nothing — and tries to keep Jihoon close to him. “Please calm down, baby, please,” Woojin finds himself saying, and Jihoon heaves a deep breath.

 

He guides the other boy to the couch, waits for him to calm down as he entwines their fingers. In his mind, Woojin is informed this is not a thing Donghan does a lot these days.

 

“I just don’t think you love me anymore,” Jihoon whispers after it’s been quiet for some time. Only them and the ticking of the living room clock behind them. “I just don’t think this works anymore.”

 

Woojin knows Donghan _does_ love him, he feels it. But it’s not the same, like they are a candle on the verge of being burnt out.

 

And something in Woojin breaks at that, something about the way Jihoon says it makes him want to beg him to not give up just yet. This is not Kim Donghan speaking, he knows. This is purely _him_.

 

But today they are one and the same, so he says, “Let’s go to the beach.”

 

Jihoon looks up. His eyes are still a little glossed over, his cheeks red. “What?”

 

“Let’s get out of here. Just for today.” He doesn’t know where the idea comes from, but _something_ about Jihoon just pulls Woojin in, pins him down, has him acting outside of what he’s supposed to do.

 

“We have school,” Jihoon reminds him, but doesn’t resist when he gently gets pulled up and dragged out of the front door. Kim Donghan has a car, Woojin knows. Kim Donghan knows how to drive, so Woojin gets behind the wheel and starts the engine.

 

During the drive, he tentatively reaches out for Jihoon’s hand again. Because he wants to, because he _can_. The other boy flinches briefly, hesitates. But then he turns his palm, lets Woojin squeeze his hand tightly. He doesn’t let go until they’ve arrived, until they’ve found a vacant parking spot near the bay.

 

They get out, and Woojin wordlessly reaches out again for Jihoon’s hand once he joins him. The air is cold, but Jihoon is so, so warm.

 

*

 

They spend the day like that, the winter sun beating down on them. They take a walk, build sandcastles, get coffee and dessert at a seaside cafe. It’s just them, and Woojin has to remind himself multiple times that day that he’s Kim Donghan, and that this is who Jihoon loves.

 

But he’s never been selfish like this, never kissed someone because he’d wanted to.

 

And yet, yet he presses a soft kiss to the corner of Jihoon’s mouth as they’re standing side by side, watching the waves push and pull.

 

It’s an odd feeling, _love_.

 

There’s still an air of _something_ around them. Of sadness, of hesitance, of confusion. But Woojin does his best, tries his hardest to just make Jihoon smile, to make him happy.

 

When the other boy looks at him for a moment too long before leaning in and kissing him first, he hopes he’s succeeded.

 

Park Woojin doesn’t remember how long he’s been switching bodies, he’s lost count after the first thirty or so. But he does have a vivid memory of some days, barely remembers snippets about others.

 

He doesn’t recall ever being this connected to someone. And it’s not to Donghan, but to _Jihoon_.

 

He hopes he never forgets this.  

 

“Thank you for today,” Jihoon whispers and squeezes his hand once they’ve driven back home. “I think we really needed this.”

 

The sun is setting, a pink and orange glow covering them both.

 

Jihoon is beautiful, and it hurts. It hurts because he believes he’s found him — believes he’s found the _one_ . He believes something _sparked_ . And he’s never, never ever wanted to go back to wherever home is this bad before. He wants this to stop, more than ever. He wants _this_ to be home.

 

He wants to scream, wants to kick and fight until Kim Donghan’s body finally gives up on him, until fate lets him go, lets him go home, so he can find Jihoon again.

 

But he can’t, can he?

 

So instead, he desperately tries to keep Jihoon close to him.

 

“ _Stay over_ ,” he says, and the other boy looks at him in question.

 

“You never ask me that anymore,” he mumbles back, but lets himself be pulled into a tight embrace nonetheless.

 

“Stay with me,” Woojin says, softer now, and Jihoon looks at the eyes of Kim Donghan and must see a flicker of _something_ , because he sighs and nods. _Stay with me_ , he thinks, _or let me stay with you_.

 

He’s wanted to stay places before, he admits this. It’s hard not to when you sometimes wake up in the body of a famous actor, or the son of a wealthy businessman. But it was hypothetical, always. It was never a wish.

 

It was _wow, this isn’t the worst, if I get stuck here I might be able to deal with never figuring this out_.

 

But it was never _this_ — the feeling of want, of _need_. The feeling that, if he has to keep doing this forever, he wants to wake up as Kim Donghan every day, pretend to live his life like this, as long as he has Jihoon by his side.

 

And he knows it’s fucked up, knows this shouldn't be the case.

 

And he wonders if this is really what _love_ is.

 

He doesn’t want to fall asleep that night. He tries so hard, to just stay awake another minute. He runs his hand through Jihoon’s hair, kisses his forehead, holds him tight. He feels a smile on his lips when the other boy sighs contentedly in his slumber.

 

The clock is ticking, and it must be nearing midnight for sure now.

 

Kim Donghan’s eyes are closing, and Woojin tries to fight it. But he knows he can’t win, knows he has to move on, on to the next one. It’s fatigue of a long day creeping up on him, trying to drag him into sleep.

 

“I love you,” Woojin whispers — and it’s wholeheartedly _him_ — before he closes his eyes and bids Kim Donghan and Park Jihoon a silent farewell.

 

*

 

When he opens his eyes, it’s to the sound of a rhythmic beeping. It’s to a feeling of soreness, a little bit of pain in his leg. He looks around him from where he’s lying down, takes in the scenery, tries to dig into his occupant’s memories as he’s always done to get ready for another day.

 

Except, he comes up with nothing. Only a name, _his own name_.

 

He can’t move, and belatedly realises he must be in a hospital. There’s tubes attached to his body, and the beeping sounds seem to come from a heart monitor. He puts his head down again, decides to wait. It's not the first time his occupant is a hospital patient, so he knows he can't do much now.

 

The echo in his mind. _Park Woojin, Park Woojin, Woojin-ah, please come home_.

 

Flashes of _something_ , of familiarity. He sighs deeply and wonders why his mind is so empty today.

 

Closing his eyes, he allows himself to think of yesterday. He rarely does, rarely ever looks back to wonder about the previous person’s life. He doesn’t have time for that, doesn’t have the emotional capacity for that. One day, he gets to write someone’s story for them, and that will be it.

 

Traveling is tough.

 

But either way, today he finds himself thinking, wondering.  

 

But he’s not thinking of Kim Donghan or his memories. No, he’s thinking about Jihoon. Jihoon, with tears in his eyes. Jihoon, smiling up at him, leaning in to kiss him as if it was newfound love. Jihoon, who Woojin wanted to keep so, so badly. Jihoon, who was the first person all this time who made him wish so desperately that home is really where the heart is.

 

For the very first time, Woojin feels like he'd lost a piece of himself. As if he'd left something behind there, with Jihoon.

 

It's been less than one night, but he misses him, his warmth, the sparkle in his eyes — but he shouldn't. 

 

Woojin doesn’t know how long he’s lying there, listening to the steady _beep, beep, beep_ of the monitor.

 

He doesn’t know how long he spends thinking of Jihoon, of chapped lips pressing onto his (not  _his_ , but whatever) and calloused fingers trailing patterns over his arms.

 

Of sand in his shoes, the breeze of the sea on his cheeks.

 

Of laughter and happiness.

 

 

 _( Somewhere in Masan, Kim Donghan wakes up to vague memories of a beach, of Jihoon’s hand in his._ _Of what must be love._

 

_He doesn’t remember ever going there, though, or why, but decides not to question it._

 

_Park Jihoon looks happy, thanks him for yesterday as he kisses him goodbye._

 

_New hope, new love, new chances. )_

 

 

An infinite amount of time later — Woojin _really_ does not know how long he’s been here, and tries to accept the reality that today will be spent in an empty head and resting — the door creaks open.

 

He doesn’t see anyone, though, his bed being unfortunately placed away from the door, a mere corner separating him from his visitors.

 

Then, there’s talking. _Begging_ . A woman’s voice, he recognises. Not just that. A woman’s voice he _recognises_.

 

Hold on.

 

“Doctor Yoon, please, please give us a little more time. It hasn’t been that long, has it?”

 

It is silent for a few seconds. Woojin knows because he counts. Five, in total. “We don’t know how this will continue, Miss. If he doesn’t wake up soon, he never will.”

 

Footsteps.

 

A defeated sigh.

 

And Woojin watches as the two people round the corner. A women, mid-forties, followed by a man in a white coat who looks to be in his late twenties. They both stop in their tracks when they find Woojin staring at them.

 

Then, many things happen at once.

 

The doctor’s mouth opens into an _O_   shape, before he presses on a button in his coat pocket. The woman, on the other hand, starts _shaking_. Then, she cries, and before Woojin realizes it he’s being scooped up in an embrace, tubes and other technology long forgotten.

 

“Woojin,” the woman cries, and... _wait_.

 

Woojin?

 

“My Woojin, Woojin….”

 

Does this mean…

 

“I can’t believe it. I can’t believe you’re here, you’re alive. I can’t believe you’re awake.”

 

The woman pulls back after a while and looks at him. Her tear stained cheeks, the trembling of her lips into a watery smile.

 

Something clicks, then. Something clicks and suddenly Woojin is overwhelmed with memories.

 

This woman is his mother.

 

 _His_ mother.

 

Because he’s Park Woojin.

 

And he’s home.

 

* * *

 

 

 

So, this is him:

 

Park Woojin. Born on November 2nd, 1999 in Busan, South-Korea.

 

Park Woojin. Got into a bus accident on the way back from school on July 3rd, 2016.

 

Park Woojin. Woke up unexpectedly from his coma six months later, on January 28th, 2017.

 

He’d woken up in his own body that day.

 

And the day after that.

 

And the day after that, too.

 

It’s been a little over a year since then, and Woojin stops fearing that one day he won’t be Woojin anymore.

 

But where he stops fearing, he doesn’t stop _wondering_.

 

Throughout his recovery, he’s established this so far: he was supposed to die. There is no other option than this, right? But instead of going wherever it had to go, his soul started wandering. His soul got lost and ended up with someone else.

 

As if searching for something to pull him back.

 

The bus accident Woojin had been in had been a terrible one, he’d learned. Two people died, and three people got heavily injured, Woojin being one of them. It had occurred on the way back from school, right before their summer break.

 

Woojin had gotten his leg crushed, a few broken ribs, and internal bleeding. He’d fallen into a coma after his third surgery, and he figures that’s when the traveling must have started.

 

But as his wounds healed, as his condition got better, he still didn’t wake up. For months,  _months,_ Woojin’s family lost hope with each passing day.

 

And then one day, he’d opened his eyes. Against all odds.

 

“You must have had a guardian angel,” Doctor Yoon had laughed once, and oh man, the  _irony_ of it all.

 

This is how one of his closest childhood friends words it for him. With a laugh, as if it’s something impossible.

 

“It’s like you were there but you weren’t,” Im Youngmin had said, one Sunday afternoon around three weeks after Woojin had woken up. He came to visit with his boyfriend, Donghyun, and one of Woojin's closest juniors, Daehwi, tagging along. “Your heart was beating, your brain was working. It was just like you were in a deep slumber. Like your body was fine, your soul just wasn’t home.”

 

Daehwi had nodded at that. "But here you are. Back home. It's been so quiet without you though, I'll miss that!"

 

Woojin snorts at that, and laughs when Donghyun throws a tissue at Daehwi's face, but there’s _something_ pulling at his heart strings.

 

He doesn’t question this; doesn’t question things like near(?) death experiences and soul traveling and getting lost somewhere in between it all. His head hurts when he tries to do so.

 

What he _does_ question, though, is how or why it stopped.

 

When he thinks of his last day as Not-Park Woojin, his last day of traveling, he remembers Kim Donghan. He remembers Park Jihoon and how it had taken him less than 24 hours to fall in love for the very first time.

 

And that must be it, right? If the heart finds peace, finds a home, then it’s time for the soul to do the same.

 

A miracle, they newspaper had called it.

 

A miracle, but when the nights get dark and the moon outside casts her light down onto his face, Woojin wonders about fate instead.

 

_Fate is a strange thing. Fate is vile. Fate is unfair. Fate is, well, fate._

 

_And fate has fucked him over._

 

He _knows_ this, knows fate has been anything but kind. Yet, he wonders if fate has a plan for him, if there’s such a thing as soulmates and as destiny.

 

His mind drifts to Jihoon sometimes. How can it not? He thinks about him even if he doesn’t want to. He’s scared about what he might find if he goes looking, or that he might jinx himself and wake up in someone else’s body again. So he doesn't search. He tries to leave Park Jihoon as a mere memory that day on the beach.

 

And at the same time, he also wants to know, wants to find out where he is. He wonders if this is why he’s here — because as much as fate is cruel, it might also be obedient. Maybe this _is_ fate, destiny. Maybe he is just meant to find Jihoon again.

 

But he wouldn’t know. There is no manual on destiny and all of that. Woojin thinks to himself it would be easier if there was. 

 

His heart aches, though, and sometimes he can’t help but wonder where and how him and Donghan are now. He just has too many questions.

 

But it’s not like he has time to ask them, anyway. He needs to catch up things, on school, on _life_. He has to learn some things again, has to make peace with the fact some things aren’t going to be the same.

 

Time doesn’t stop for anybody, not even for teenage boys with wandering souls.

 

 

( _Somewhere in Masan, Park Jihoon had watched Kim Donghan leave his house for the last time._

 

 _It_ _feels like lifetimes since that day on the beach, and while things looked up for a while, they came down just as quickly._

 

_It’s almost like Donghan had been an entirely different person, that day. The last day they had truly been happy._

 

_The air had been cold around them. Donghan smiles once more, weak but there, waving him goodbye as he turns the corner._

 

_It had been a mutual decision. It had been for the better. Donghan is moving away for college and it wouldn’t have worked out anyway._

 

_It stings._

 

_But Jihoon will be okay. He’s fine._

 

_He well and truly is._

 

 _He breathes._ )

 

 

As Woojin continues treatment and recovery, he sometimes keeps thinking about how it might have just ended after that day on the beach, he might have just officially died then.

 

When it hurts, he sometimes wishes that he had. But then he might have never found out who was calling out to him so desperately — his mother, his sister, his friends, his  _family_.

 

But he didn’t die. He went back.

 

Second chances. Lost and found. Something written in the stars.

 

He wonders, but he shouldn’t; shouldn’t reminiscence about first loves, about body traveling, about Park Jihoon and his hands entwined with his own. Shouldn’t be drowning himself in all the _What if_ s.

 

He should focus on what’s next in life. Recovery, new opportunities, new chances.

 

Maybe, he can do both at the same time.

 

*

 

“How are you doing, Woojin?” Doctor Yoon asks as he enters the room.

 

“Fine. Good, great,” he answers back. “Leg is acting up a little, but good.”

 

Doctor Yoon nods and scribbles down something on his notepad. “Your mother says you want to start dancing again.”

 

Dancing had been Woojin’s life. He’d learned this as his memories came back one by one. And it turned out to be true; the moment he’d gained enough strength to walk properly on his own again, the first thing he did was try some old choreography. It had been awkward, it had _hurt_ , but it had also felt really good.

 

He has a long way to go, a lot to catch up on. But he’s doing well, he believes. He’s thankful for the second chance he’d gotten and tries to live up to that.

 

“Yeah,” Woojin answers, and the doctor smiles at him.

 

“And what about college?”

 

A sigh. It’s been hard. Probably harder than all other things combined. He’s not necessarily good at studying, but he’s worked hard these past few months. With help from classmates too, tutoring him and lending him notes. “Applied to some. If I keep this up, I might get in. Catching up is hard, though.”

 

Doctor Yoon smiles at him again. He looks like a weird cat, Woojin idly thinks. “That’s good. Everyone does things at their own pace. But you’ve lost nearly a year, so I’d say you’re doing things pretty fast.”

 

Woojin smiles, a sense pride welling in his chest. “I suppose so, yeah.”

 

“I’ve read through your entry logs during your recovery, and you seem to be doing well in general. I think we can conclude this session, then. Unless you have any more questions?”

 

Woojin chews his lip for a second. He _does_ have a question, has had it since the day of his very first session. It itches, so much, but he’s never dared to ask. But college starts in less than three months and a new chapter of his life will be starting. So he takes a deep breath and asks, “Do you believe in destiny, doctor?”

 

The man looks stunned for a second, eyes wide. Then he nods to himself before carefully formulating an answer. “Well, as a doctor, I can’t tell you that I do. That would go against all the science I have ever taught and been taught. But let me tell you this as a secret, as just me, as merely Yoon Jisung. I suppose I do. It would be nice, would it not? Why are you asking?”

 

Woojin shrugs. “It’s been on my mind.”

 

“Because you woke up from that coma?”

 

“That’s part of it, yes.”

 

Jisung’s eyes crinkle. He looks like he wants to ask more, like he might know something. Instead, he just nods. “I was joking at first when I told you this, but hey, maybe you really _did_ have a guardian angel out there.”

 

He thinks about Park Jihoon again, and nods. As much as he tries to push it to the back of his mind, like it had all been some sort of fucked up fantasy, it keeps coming back.

 

He hates how something still tugs at his heartstrings.

 

He hates that he wonders if meeting Jihoon brought him home, if their souls were meant to find each other, save each other.

 

“I guess we will never know, though. But if you have any more questions, existential or not, feel free to reach out.”

 

 

* * *

 

  
  
“I’m so proud of you,” his mother says as she hugs him, months later, right after he graduates. “I’m so thankful and proud.”

 

Woojin smiles at her. “I’m thankful, too.”

 

He lets himself get hugged by his family, and then by his friends. Daehwi sulks that he's leaving, Youngmin discreetly wipes his tears as Donghyun holds his hand. There's a feeling of _pure_ happiness Woojin didn’t know he could ever be feeling again. All the misery of the past years washed away, even if it's just for a while.

 

The acceptance letter is pinned to his wall, right above his desk. Seoul. A whole new mystery, a new adventure on his own. He’s never been there, at least not as _Woojin_.

 

It’s been scary, stressful, and it’s a huge step. But once the time comes, he bravely steps on the KTX that will take him to Seoul Station. He hugs his parents, then hugs his sister. “I’ll be safe,” he says.

 

“You better be. Call me when you get there.”

 

He hauls his bag over his shoulder before he steps onto the platform. A new chapter of his life.

 

When he looks around him, watches the people on the train platform, and he smiles to himself. He doesn’t miss the body switching. Not at all. It’s something scary, something uncertain and dangerous. It’s something he can’t talk about or tell anyone. He's glad that it's over.

 

So no, he doesn’t miss it.

 

But when he looks at it from a different angle, at the same time, for a little while, he guesses he was part of someones story.

 

“Ladies and gentlemen,” a voice sounds through the speakers, “Welcome to the 12:30PM KTX Train bound for Seoul. Our train will depart shortly. First intermediate stops will be in Ulsan, Gyeongju, and East Daegu. We wish you a safe journey. _”_

 

But now, now it was time to write his own.

 

Something tells him he will be just fine.

 

 

( _Somewhere in Masan, Park Jihoon steps on the bus to Seoul with everything he owns packed into two suitcases._

 

_There’s no going back now. It’s nerve-wracking, but it’s time for bigger things._

 

_His mother’s eyes are watery, his father has a proud smile on his lips. Jihoon promises to call them soon._

 

 _Endings have always meant new beginnings, anyway._ )

 

 

 

*

 

 

College is an adjustment, to say at the least. It’s getting lost more than one would like and unexpected all-nighters, but he’d say he’s doing well.

 

He makes new friends, ends up reconnecting with some old ones too. He keeps in touch with his friends back home, skypes them every once in a while. 

 

Daehwi had just hung up when his roommate enters and promptly makes a hope on Woojin's bed.

 

Daniel looks at him from where he’d lying down. Woojin laughs when the older nearly hits his head on the bedpost, and thinks about how he got really lucky sharing a room with him.

 

“Wanna come along to this get-together?” His accent is thick, and sometimes it makes Woojin feel like he hasn’t left Busan at all.

 

“I don’t know,” Woojin ponders. He gives his senior a sulky expression, and he bursts out laughing.

 

“Hey,” Daniel sits up, “Don’t be like that! It’s from a friend of mine, like a start of the semester thing. Minhyun is nice, promise. Plus, he’s from Busan too. And his roommate is your age, I think. Sungwoon and Seongwoo are a little scary, but truly, we’re all nice guys here.”

 

Woojin doesn’t think there is anyone quite as nice as Kang Daniel is, but he decides to give them the benefit of the doubt. “Sure then, okay.”

 

He still doesn’t feel like it, though. He’s tired and essays have already been piling up. It’s only the third week, damn it. “If you come along,” Daniel adds, noticing Woojin’s hesitation, “I’ll introduce you to our dance team.”

 

Woojin rolls his eyes. He should have never told Daniel he used to be a dancer but he stopped due to his accident. Because now, the older is hellbent on having him join their crew. “That would be doing _you_ a favour!" he jabs, no malice in his tone. Before it comes to a point Daniel looks two seconds away from putting on a dejected puppy face and straight up sulking, he decides gives in. Just this once. "Alright, alright.”

 

Daniel jumps up, goes to hug Woojin. "Great! You will not regret it!"

 

In the end, Daniel is right. Even better — it turns out the _best_ possible decision he could have made.

 

Because although reluctant at first, this is how he finds the answer to all of the questions he's asked the universe over the past few years.

 

About fate, about miracles, about the moon and the stars. Because it’s only a few hours later when Woojin steps out for a minute for some fresh air, that he finds a familiar face.

 

The boy bumps into him, nearly toppling over and sending them both falling into the ground. Except, Woojin steers his balance and has them both crashing into the wall, instead.

 

“Are you okay?” The boy asks, and Woojin isn’t sure if he wants to laugh or cry. His hands are on both sides of Woojin's head, caging him in. He wouldn't want to leave this, anyway. “Holy shit. Hey, are you okay? Uh… I’m sorry I’m new here and I don’t know who you are, should I get some help?”

 

And fuck, if this isn’t written in the stars, he doesn’t know what else this could possibly be.

 

Woojin just smiles, shaking his head. “I’m perfectly fine,” he murmurs, and he can’t look away, doesn’t _want_ to look away because he’s scared that if he does, all of this will have been a dream.

 

“Are you sure?” The corridor is empty except for them, and their faces are close enough that Woojin could just lean in and kiss him.

 

He doesn't, though. Because that would be weird, no matter how much the rules of _acceptable_ blur at these kinds of things. So instead, he opts for a breathless “ _Yeah._ ”

 

He boy puffs his cheeks. “Okay, great, because I only really know Minhyun and I don’t think it would end up well if I injured my roommate’s friend at his party.”

 

Woojin lets out a breathy laugh, but fails to say anything else.

 

“Sorry for our abrupt, uh, meeting,” Jihoon says, apparently realizing the space (or lack thereof) between them, and steps back. Woojin thinks he might pass out. 

 

The other boy's gaze remains unwavering, curious, as he tilts his head sideways and studies Woojin. He squints. "Have we met before?"

 

 _Probably, yeah. But not like this._  

 

Woojin shakes his head, a tiny smile on his lips. "Dunno. We might have seen each other around."

 

Jihoon shrugs and extends his hand to Woojin. “I’m Park Jihoon, by the way.”

 

Fate, it seems, truly has a way of messing with him.

 

But this time, he can’t complain. He might really have to call Doctor Yoon to tell him that some things, perhaps, _are_ meant to be.

 

“Park Woojin,” he answers, matching Jihoon’s smile as their hands meet in the middle.

 

Jihoon shakes it, and holds on a little bit too long. Something clicks, like a puzzle falling into place. 

 

The final piece.

 

Like magnets snapping together.

 

As if Woojin really came back for _this_. As if Jihoon’s soul and Woojin’s soul are very old friends, finding each other again in the right place and at the right time.

 

“Well, Park Woojin,” he says sincerely, “It’s very nice to meet you.”

 

Jihoon’s eye still have the sparkle he vaguely remembers.

 

He’s broader, a little taller, and his hair is lighter.

 

 _It’s very nice to meet you again_ , Woojin thinks to himself. _It’s very nice to meet you as myself. It’s very nice to get to know you, now_.

 

 

( _Somewhere in between Masan, Busan, and Seoul, the moon is shining brightly._

 

_Somewhere in the vastness of the universe, something clicks._

 

 _The stars twinkle. They’re at peace._ )

 

 

 

“Likewise, Park Jihoon. Likewise.”

 

 

 

*

 

_Do you think_

_the universe fights_

_for souls to be together?_

_Some things_

_are too strange and strong_

_to be coincidences._

— emery allen

**Author's Note:**

> based on [this](https://twitter.com/ricegrainfairy/status/1031503140334387200)! once again thank you to [brownrice](https://archiveofourown.org/users/brownrice) for letting me use this ♡ i took sooo many liberties with the initial plot/prompt (based on david levithan's every day) and switched it up a lot. i hope you'll like it nonetheless. 
> 
>  
> 
> feedback and (constructive) criticism is always welcome and greatly appreciated! ♡  
> i have a [writing account](https://twitter.com/bunssos) now!  
> but feel free to hmu on my [multifandom twt](https://twitter.com/mijoo) or [curiouscat](https://curiouscat.me/littleheavens) as well! ;-) ♡


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